The Twilight of Earth
by the mythologist
Summary: When the boundaries that hold back the demon are brought down, ancient prophecy calls for unlikely heroes to save the earth. Yet evil may be closer than they know...and sacrifice may be the only thing that can save them. AU with wielding/full range of abilities. Warnings/summary within. Maka POV. SoMa, Tsublaki, K/L/P, OxKim. Inspired in part by A. E.'s "The Twilight of Earth"
1. Rekindling Shepherd Stars

**The Twilight of Earth**

**the_mythologist**

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**Disclaimer: **The Twilight of Earth is the property of A.E. (George William Russell). Soul:Eater is the property of Atsushi Ookubo.

**Story Points: **Fantasy/Historical AU told from Maka's POV. (Think Arthurian legends setting.) Characters will be somewhat OOC as many don't meet until their late teenage years, and as their personalities are colored by different experiences. Weapon/technician partnerships remain the same, as well as the general concepts of wielding/soul resonance, etc.

Each chapter will have a verse from the poem "The Twilight of Earth," by George William Russell, a renowned Irish man-of-all-literary-trades.

**Rating: **M for violence, language, dark themes, mention of rape/torture, sex, character death(s).This will be a darker fic than Caprice, and while characters will die (maybe even ones you like), there will ultimately be a happy ending.

**Summary: **Many centuries ago demons plagued the earth, spreading madness, terror, and death in their wake. After many years of battle, the unholy horde was sealed by the power of the four elemental clans. Since that time the clans have flourished, and peace reigned between them.

Yet since the recent folly of the Star Clan, the last boundaries holding back the ancient scourge are failing. demons once again walk among the living, and the line between good and evil has blurred. There is now but one clan that staves off the demons - although it will take an old prophecy, unexpected partnerships, and a terrible sacrifice to resurrect the only power that could truly save us.

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**Chapter 1 – Rekindling Shepherd Stars**

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_We dwindle down beneath the skies,_

_And from ourselves we pass away:_

_The paradise of memories_

_Grows ever fainter, day by day._

_The shepherd stars have shrunk within,_

_The world's great night will soon begin._

_- From 'The Twilight of Earth' by George William Russell  
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_**The 7th Day of Sleep Moon, Late Winter **_

_**4012 years after the demon's defeat**_

My end is near. I know that, even bound and blindfolded. Every panicked beat of my heart confirms it, and it is echoed by the thrum of despair in my blood. Every step is a war against the fear surrounding me, and every breath a shuddering battle to keep from caving in. I am afraid to think, to remember has happened, why we are here. Yet that is the final victory, and after two days of marching, we will reach their village by nightfall. And then...and then...

No. I must not do this, or fear will immobilize me. I must think of other things, simpler things. Start with what I know, not what I fear.

I know that they have taken us far from home, that several days march has led us to a place with salt in the air and the cries of strange birds. I know little else as our captors speak mostly in their own tongue, a lilting, syllabic tangle that I do not fully understand. I have picked up a little - I learn quickly and am adept with languages - but the shock and fear have clouded my mind. Perhaps my ignorance is a blessing. What little I understand isn't good, and I doubt I'll live long enough to use it.

My fingers clench against the binding as my mind stutters over what I fear to admit. I know the truth, even if I don't dare dwell on it: when we arrive at the village, I will die. After all, there is no reason to keep me: I am too skinny to be beautiful, and lack the sexual knowledge that comes from marriage. If I were to be kept as someone's whore, I would have been taken already, like several of the other women on this march. I hold no illusions – I am being led to the altar, where my blackened remains will prove a fitting sacrifice for whatever god they worship.

My breathing quickens yet I cannot force my mind onto safer ground. We were blindfolded at the start of this morning's march, to lessen the chances of successful escape. Yet even if we were familiar with the land, there is nowhere to escape to. They saw to that when they razed the village to the ground, destroying our homes and our crops, our animal pens and-

Someone jostles into me, interrupting my reverie. With my hands tied together I fall to the ground, unable to catch myself. I am hauled up roughly and for all the discomfort it causes, I am also relieved. With the blindfold it is easy to forget that I am not alone. There are others here with me - mostly young women and some of the older boys - and as long as we are alive, we must hope. My father and my best friend still live...but what can two do against such odds? Our warriors barely made a dent in their numbers, falling like threshed wheat before their ferocious might and their terrifying abilities-

"Are you hurt?"

The words were spoken in a hushed undertone and carried a subtle yet genuine concern that nearly brought tears to my eyes. Yet the accent was foreign, and the words rolled off his tongue thickly, like honey when one expected mead. Why would one of _them_ ask if I was hurt? I did not respond, but jerked my head slightly to the left. Let him take that as a response. I didn't want to waste any more of my fleeting time on them.

"Are you afraid, now? You were not afraid of us then. Not even when you thought we were demons."

They – the warriors of the Wolf Clan - had come upon us in the dead of night, silent as the grave until the fire took hold of our homes. Then it was as if the gates of the underworld had erupted spilling forth men, wolves, and monsters. What else could we think them, when they had men whose skin was black like the night, women who could shoot bursts of fire from their fingertips, and the Deathbringer himself, who was a demon clad in human skin? Yet there had been no time to be afraid. There had only been the fire, the screams, and the bone deep instinct to protect the people of the village.

I hadn't realized I had murmured my thoughts aloud until my unusual captor answered me. "To protect them? Is that why you took up the scythe against us, and killed three of our own?" There was a heavy pause in which fear trickled slowly up my back. So he knew? Did they all know? More importantly, was he angry? Would this strange conversation be the last thing I heard, before he killed me? But waiting two days and nights to kill me made no sense...

When he next spoke, there was a touch of something surprising in his tone. Perhaps satisfaction, or perhaps even pride. "Don't you wonder why they do not touch you? Why they do not treat you as a carrier for their children?" I flinched, but couldn't help the reflective nod. I couldn't speak, not when I was this afraid, and could not tell what my captor was trying to tell me. His voice was soft and melodious, but how could I trust in that when his words were so dangerous? I felt his fingers at the back of my neck and tensed further, before I felt the lift of my hair from underneath the blindfold. His actions had loosened the cloth, and for the first time in days, I felt a flutter of hope. Was this man trying to help me? Or to ingratiate me to him? Either way, he was giving me a chance, as I could see the blurry colors of the world around the edges of the blindfold.

"They respect you, wind warrior. They fear the demons, and they fear the Deathbringer even more. Yet you, a woman from the Wind Clan, fear neither. Do you understand?"

He was wrong. I feared so much, most of all now. I feared for my life, and the lives of the others with me. I was afraid every time one of the warriors pulled a protesting woman off into the woods, and every time one of them looked my way. Yet most of all I was afraid for the two that had been spared the destruction. How would my father react when he returned to the village and found its smoking remains? Would his heart break, as it nearly had after the death of my mother? But my father was calm, and a battle-seasoned warrior. Worse yet was my best friend, who would return with him. What would Black do when he came home and found us all gone?

I understood what my captor was telling me, however. My supposed lack of fear was my protection – as long as they believed me unnaturally brave, I was relatively safe. Safer, at least. So, a little out of gratitude and a little simply to hear my voice again, I spoke for the first time in days. "I understand."

There was a pause that lasted the space of a dozen heartbeats. I thought he had moved away, but his words interrupted my nervous reflections once more. "You stared into the eyes of the Deathbringer, and looked at him as if he were no more than any other man. He will not soon forget that, wind warrior."

He moved away, but I did not hear him. His mention of the Deathbringer had brought it all back, all the memories I had tried so hard to suppress. Unwelcome images flashed against my eyelids, and I had to bite my lip to keep from crying out: their wolf pelts gleaming like silver against the dark; war cries like the call of a monster from a dream; the wet sound of a sword driving into flesh, and the scent of blood and feces in the air. They had painted their faces in the manner of demons, and in the flickering light that was what we assumed they were. After all, I had seen with my own eyes a woman set fire to a hut simply by touching it, and a man with black skin light up the night with both fire and lightning, one from each fist. How could I blame our warriors for not standing against them?

_Yet you did,_ an inner voice whispered insistently. _He was right. You were not afraid._

There had been no space for fear. My world had shrunk down to minute actions, blinding me to the worst of the atrocities, and how I might have felt about them. Awake to the smell of burning pitch: move. Get out of bed, and get out of my home. Get to the outskirts, and then - Jump around the man swinging down with the sword, slide past the woman setting huts aflame. Grip a hand, and pull it along with me, hopefully to safety. When that hand was hacked away, stumble into a hut, pray there was something to use. There – a discarded scythe, no longer sharp but better than my fists.

Then there was nothing but the breath in my lungs and the scythe in my hands. Dimly I knew that men came roaring into the hut, but all of them met their ends on the blunted edge of my blade. There was a primal rhythm in fighting them – the thud of the scythe against their neck, their calves, their torso – and I was too lost within it to feel their blood coat my hands and body. Yet then _he _was there_,_ and parried me swing for swing until I lost the pulse, and when I looked at his face I knew my end had come.

All the stories depict the Deathbringer differently, but on certain points they all agree. He was a demon bound in man's flesh; blood red eyes and bone white hair, and a mouth full of teeth too sharp to be natural. Most described him as gigantic but some asserted he was small and lithe like a wildcat. The man standing across from me was only a few inches taller than I and favored the latter description but the shock of seeing his preternaturally colored eyes fasten on mine ended my internal debate. This was the Deathbringer, and I was going to die.

After that, my body moved on its own. The scythe blade came arcing down, straight towards his chest. On any other man it would have been a clean hit, but demons cannot be brought down that easily. At the last moment, a blade flashed between us, and it was only after a moment's shock that I realized it had grown _out of his arm._ There was only time to blink in astonishment before he sliced the handle of my scythe and pulled me to him, forcing us eye to eye and me entirely at his mercy.

There was one other point on which all stories agreed: he always – _always __- _asked if you were afraid. Whether he killed you or not, he wanted to know that he terrified you.

There were so many things I had never gotten to do. I had never married, never had children, never seen the lights that danced in the skies of the far north. I had not told my father that I still loved him, and Black that even death would not end our friendship. I had never witnessed a mystery, or fallen in love. Yet there was no helping that, now. The only thing I could do was deny him, and go to my death as bravely as I could. So before he could open his mouth I spoke, and my rage and conviction made my words truth.

"No, demon. I am not afraid. Not of you, nor of my death." If there had been enough moisture in my mouth I would had spat in his face, if only to alter his expression. It was unexpected for a demon to look so blank at the moment of my murder. Where was the unholy glee or murderous rage that we had been taught to expect? The Deathbringer merely looked back at me, as steadily and calmly as a face carved into wood. Then I remembered why people truly feared him. "My spirit is for the winds. Not for you, soul-eater." His eyes hooded at that, and his scythe arm momentarily pulled me in closer, the blade cutting through my shirt like a knife through butter. Then there was only a sharp pain at the back of my skull, and darkness.

The surprise at waking unharmed was nothing less than what I felt at remaining alive. We were miles away when I regained consciousness, and nothing around me looked familiar. The other captives were happy enough to see me awaken, yet there was a reserve between us, and I could not put it all down to grief. After all, wasn't tragedy on this scale supposed to bring us together, not divide us? It was on the second day's walk that I realized it was due to my treatment – not only was I not molested as they were, but the soldiers had carried me when I was unconscious.

The few women who would talk to me after that knew what I knew – I was an altar sacrifice, and there was no point in looking to me for strength or comfort. Yet now I was beginning to wonder if there wasn't a simpler explanation for all of this. I hadn't seen the Deathbringer through the long walk. Perhaps he traveled as demons did, faster and invisible to human sight, and was waiting for me at their village. Either way, what demon could turn down my challenge? The odd soldier had told me the Deathbringer would not forget me. What else could he possibly mean?

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We reached their village after sundown, several hours after the soldiers had removed our blindfolds, finding them superfluous. The first thing I did was to look around to see if the Deathbringer was near, but as before I couldn't see him. Perhaps he really had outflown the winds to await our arrival at his village. Either way, it did not matter. I was afraid, more so than I had ever been in my entire life. Yet seeing him again would remind me to be brave, and perhaps even awaken that rage I had felt so recently.

A tall man with light hair and drooping, sad eyes approached us, and one of the men leading us halted and clasped arms with him. I caught a few of his words, yet most was garbled. _Home,__ joy, slaves_and _sorted. __Woman, w__here, brother? _Then a word that was the same in my own tongue, _soul. _

It was too late for my blood to run cold. I already knew my fate. The despair wasn't new, but for the first time in days, I wished that it wouldn't happen to me. Bravery was one thing, and acceptance quite another.

_Where are you, Black? __We promised to die together, but I think I cannot keep that promise. Live for me, my friend. Stay with Father and be safe._

Then the men were among us, pulling us to either the left or the right. I couldn't tell if one side was death and the other life; on both sides there were a few men who had tied a rope around the wrist of a young captive, and then fastened it to their own. I understood enough to know this meant these people were marked as either prizes, slaves, or perhaps even a wife. There was no such man for me, however, and I was left standing in the center.

I stood tall as I ignored the pain in my body and the hunger in my belly, and met the gaze of the sorrowful-looking man as clearly as I could. I suspected that this clan must value bravery above all else, which was why they chose me as their sacrifice. Yet I could not be anything other than what I was. Besides, I knew that living the life of a slave woman – or boy - was worse. He walked towards me, and every footfall was like the beating of a drum – _this was my end, this was my end. _Just as he reached me, there was a hand on my shoulder, and a voice that cut through the tense silence.

_This one is already spoken for, Wesley. _

The shock of knowing exactly what was said was almost overshadowed by the surprise of knowing who was speaking. Although he was speaking a different language, this was the man who had spoken to me... _a__nd I knew exactly what he was saying. _Yet I could not understand Wesley's response. Perhaps I was losing my mind, and merely thought I knew what my warrior had said. I could see the surprise in the arch of Wesley's brows, however. I could also feel the anger in my hidden warrior's next words.

_She is not a toy, brother. __The 'Deathbringer' will not appreciate you treating her as such. __Now go tell Father we have returned. __We must all prepare for the Initiation tonight._

With an arch parting look, Wesley turned on his heel, and signaled to the men to move with him. I turned my head to look at the man who had protected me (even if only for the Deathbringer's sake) but I was foiled by the large grey cloak and hood that hid his features. Still, this had been twice that he had helped me, and even if my eventual fate was death, these were two small acts of kindness.

My voice was rusty from several days of silence. "Thank you. I know it changes nothing, but you did not have to do that. Either...either time."

His hand on my shoulder tightened fleetingly before he gently pushed me in the direction of the village. "Of course I did. Did you not see the way he looked at you? He is a good man, but...no. You are not for him."

The coldness was settling back in my heart, and I couldn't not help the bitterness in my voice. "No, of course not. Not when the Deathbringer awaits. Will he eat my soul before this "Initiation?" Or will he take his time with me?"

The warrior stopped, and I could sense hesitancy and excitement in his response. "_D__o you understand my words__?"_

I barely heard his question. Fear-fueled wrath was building, and because it was futile to rage against my coming demise, especially to the one man here who seemed to value me at all; I voiced a silly, pointless question. "And if your brother is a good man, why did you have to tell him I wasn't a toy?"

As soon as I responded, I realized what I had done. He had once again spoken in his own tongue, and I had just revealed that somehow, I understood him. He knew I didn't understand his language, so how was I to explain understanding _him? _Before I could stammer out anything at all that might explain the inexplicable, he countered with an odd question.

"When you wield a weapon, is it always a scythe?"

He was speaking my tongue again. I could only assume it was so that we weren't overheard. We were well within the village now and people were milling about, darting in and out of homes that looks far more substantial than my own. His hand was still on my shoulder, gentle, yet firm. Fighting down a wave of panic, I responded. "I suppose you could say that."

"Why suppose?"

"That was the first time I had ever raised a weapon against someone."

He stopped dead, pulling me to a halt as well. In his silence was a question, and I answered it as best as I could. "I am not a warrior. Our village was a peaceful one. There was no need for me to learn the ways of death." I did not add that my father and my best friend were more than enough protection. Men and women came from far away lands to study with my father, and Black was the last living member of the Star Clan, the most formidable clan of warriors in human memory. I did not feel the need to explain any of this to the warrior, however. My loved one's protection was paramount, even with this strange, gentle warrior who I somehow felt the urge to trust.

"So the first time you fight, you bring down three warriors from the Wolf Clan. Battle-hardened, seasoned men; with a blunt scythe and no previous skills."

The fear and frustration bubbled up inside me, and before I could think better of it I spun around. I still could not see his face, hidden deep within the folds of his hood, but I caught his hand and gripped it roughly. It was important to make him believe me. After all, what did I have left, besides this odd raider's curious respect?

"What do you expect from me? My village did not train women to be instruments of death, as yours does. But perhaps there is an explanation. I have watched my father train, and my friend, and the men of our village. I may have watched better than I knew-"

"And did those men train with a scythe? I think not. Do not deny yourself, wind warrior-"

"What is there to deny? I _do not know _how I did it-"

"_Then show me."_

With a start, I realized that not only was he speaking in his native tongue again, but that our fingers were entwined. Yet beyond that knowledge was a more primal one, as if he were pulling something deep inside me to the surface. Then there was only time for a shocked inhale before I surrendered to the blossoming within myself, and tightening my grip on his fingers, showed him.

._..__T__here was nothing but the breath in my lungs and the scythe in my hands. __Dimly I knew that men came roaring into the hut, but all of them met their ends on the blunt__ed__ edge of my blade. __There __was a primal rhythm in fighting them – the thud of the scythe against their neck, their calves, their torso – and I was too lost within it to feel their blood coat my hands and body. __Yet then _he_was there__, __and parried me swing for swing until I lost the pulse, and __when I looked __at__ his face I knew my end had come..._

I did not know how to stop the strange vision, so I was immensely relieved when he did it for me. It was painful to relive those disjointed memories, and disconcerting to know that another saw them as well. If I wasn't about to die, I would have marveled at the oddness of this moment. Yet now it was no longer a pressing mystery why I understood this man's speech – how could it be, when I let him peer into my mind and experience my memories?

...This man was magic. He _had _to be. Perhaps he was a druid, letting me experience a miracle before I went to the winds. I wanted – no, I _needed_ to know his name. It would give me something to cling to until I finally met my fate.

"He won't...if it is in _his _power to save you-"

"What is your name?"

He paused, head jerking up to notice the man approaching us. He wore a dark beard and a cloak of wolf pelts, and by the confidence in his step I knew he was the Chief. There wasn't any time. "Please-"

His hand left mine as he answered, and I could hear something like regret in his voice. "_Soul." _

Soul? I had heard that recently...Wesley had looked for him. He probably couldn't recognize him with that hood covering his features.

...Why was Soul hiding his face?

My thoughts kept me from deciphering any of the Chieftain's words – Soul responded in quiet tones, and now that he wasn't touching me, I couldn't understand his words. It seemed they had to touch me for me to understand their tongue. Yet even that theory was disproved when the Chief lightly tapped at my chin, raising my eyes to his. So I only could understand _Soul's _words when he touched me. That made sense, as druids held strange powers, and held the ear of the gods.

_ "__S__he __is the one we have been looking for. There is no doubt in my mind.__"_

I hadn't noticed Soul moving closer to me, and it was hard not to react when he pressed his hand against my lower back. Judging by the nonchalant stares of those surrounding us, no one else noticed or realized the importance of his action. Here was a third reason to be thankful for this man – even when I was facing certain death, he did not keep me wholly in the dark.

I could see the Chief's disbelief written all over his face. Whoever they had been looking for, a 16 yr old female – more girl than woman, truthfully - clearly was not it. He shook his head and smiled, and it was surprisingly gentle. He spoke slowly, so I could understand parts of his response: _wind, woman, young, __mother, hope?_

_ "__I witnessed it myself. __S__he brought down __Gopher__, __Dutchman,__ and Giriko __with no prior training." _He paused to let men scoff, but when he spoke again his voice was sad. "_She is a scythe-wielder, __Vajra. __I am not mistaken."_

This time, I only caught one word: _Albarn._ My blood ran cold. This man...he had been looking for my father? Had our entire village been destroyed because of my father's skill?

"_There __were no warriors of his calibre there."_

His next response: _"There were no survivors."_

I tightened against his hold. I hadn't forgotten, but to hear it so bluntly...Soul had killed as well, hadn't he? How could I feel thankful for someone who had helped destroy the lives of my people? I was weak if I let one man's personal kindness to me sway my opinions of him, and his clan.

Then the Chief looked at Soul and finally announced the presence of he whom I had been waiting for - Deathbringer. He clasped a hand on Soul's shoulder and the cloak shifted, revealing locks the color of bone.

_Deathbringer._ Soul stiffened and the hood slid the rest of the way down to his shoulders, and for the second time I stared into blood-red eyes. The Chieftain's words echoed in my head, and it was as if a light was lit in the confines of my body. This...couldn't be. Soul was the druid that had peered into my soul, and the kind warrior who had helped me to my feet.

_Soul was the Deathbringer__._

Before I could realize the futility of my actions, I launched myself at him. I had no weapon, but my epiphany drove everything else from my mind. I had trusted him, thinking him a gift from the gods before my life was over. In actuality he was a demon, murderer of clans, and the one who had taken me captive. My hands closed around his throat.

Around us, the roar of extraneous noise died away. Men moved towards us, but the light shining from in between So-the Deathbringer and I forced them away. More surprising to me than the light, however, was the fact that even though he could have batted me away with a swipe of his human hand (let alone his scythe arm) Soul-Deathbringer dropped to his knees.

_I will not fight you._

The incongruity of his statement struck me, but while I loosened my grip I did not pull my hands away. Even in my rage I could see the dark shades of sorrow in his eyes. That, and the memory of his voice, telling me that if it was in his power...

_Why? _I spoke without speaking, in the same manner that I understood his words. _Why will you __not fight me? __Why did you help me? __Why would you save me?_

His words were slow and hesitant, and I could feel the fear behind them. He could not be afraid of me physically harming him... yet what else could he fear? _Because you did not fear me. __And __if __you do not fear me, then you will not fear the demons. _

Once again the mention of demons. Did that mean he was not one himself?

I hadn't realized even my private thoughts were broadcasted until I felt him wince through our link. _Wield me and you will know. __Wield me, and I can never be used against you and yours...and anyone you choose to protect ever again. _

Wield him? _I can't__._

He felt empty, as if all that made him human had been sucked out of him. _Because you hate me__-_

_ I don't know how. _What madness was I speaking? Me, "wield" the Deathbringer? What manner of devilry was this? Was this how the demons caught their prey? Yet such sincerity...such sorrow... Weaving in and out of his words were simple thoughts, barely coherent in their primitive state: _I want to protect. I want to help. I want to save._ Would a demon hold such thoughts?

_I will show you. __I will serve you. __Please. __Let me protect you._

_ I don't even know you. How can I trust you?_

_ Then look at me. _Know_ me. I will show my soul to you, if you will look_.

In this transient, half-way state, it was as simple as wanting. I wanted to know this man, and to see if he was telling me the truth. I wanted to know if Soul was real, or simply a construct of the Deathbringer. Most importantly, I wanted to know if he were truly human. So I raised my hands from his neck to his face, and when I looked into his eyes, I saw his spirit.

It was not huge and powerful, as I expected. Nor was it truly comprehensible. Later I would liken it to the seed of an ancient evergreen, more immanent even than the roots, something that is unaffected by all that it affects. Yet even from that first, dizzying glance, it was clear enough that Soul was indeed human, however damaged he had become. I could also tell he was sincere – his soul was held together by purpose, like wide stitches on woven cloth. And when I let go of the vision, reeling from the enormity of what I had done, I had come to a conclusion.

I lifted my hands from his face and the spell was undone. Once again we were in the middle of his village, violent men hemmed in around us and the chieftain looking especially dire. Could they really have thought I would hurt him? Didn't they know it was Soul who held all the power? He rose slowly and when his eyes met mine they were tired and sad. I would have pitied him more, save for that I was swaying on my feet. Blackness was painting the edges of my vision, and I hazily feared I might collapse. It would not be overly surprising, after my last few days.

Before I fell, however, I needed to say it. I could feel Soul's desperation thrumming along the edges of my skin, and the corresponding urge to allay his anxiety. "I accept you. I want-" The world spun around me, and Soul gripped my shoulders, trying to steady me before I fell. "Want to fight with you."

"_And I, you." _

His quiet declaration was the last thing I heard before I knew no more – the darkness fell into me and with one last breath, I surrendered to it.

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**I do not have a lot of experience with 1st POV. Let us hope it does not end in failure.**

**In other news, this is a Christmas/Holiday gift (part II) to all my readers! May you read and enjoy, and have a safe and wonderful (and exciting) Holiday Season!**

- the_mythologist


	2. A Home Without

**Soul Eater is the property of Atsushi Okubo. "The Twilight of Earth" belongs to G.W. Russel**

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**For pretty much ever, I ****had always assumed Crona was a female. ****Her name ****seemed to be the feminine ending of Chronus, ****the ****ancient G****reek ****g****od. ****Still, I acknowledge Crona is a****n ambiguously sexed character ****(and after reading the later chapters on the moon, I am beginning to revise my opinion)****and ****for this fic, I'm making it****(he?)**** a she. **

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**Ch 2 **– **A Home Without**

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_**The **__**8**__**th**__**-9th**__** Day of Sleep Moon, Late Winter**_

_**4012 years after the demon's defeat**_

_We shiver in the falling dew,_

_And seek a shelter from the storm:_

_When man these elder brothers knew_

_He found the mother nature warm,_

_A hearth fire blazing through it all,_

_A home without a circling wall._

_-From "The Twilight of Earth," G.W. Russell_

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The first thing I noticed upon awaking was that someone was humming. It was soothing, in a pleasant and tuneless sort of way. It made me remember my mother, who had died just a few years ago. She and I couldn't carry a tune to save our lives, yet that didn't stop her from quietly trying every night while making dinner...

_Villagedestroyedtakencaptive Soul-!_

It all came back to me in a rush, and in my panic I would have thrown myself off the bed had a pair of deceptively strong arms not caught me.

"You are finally awake! Good morning, Maka. Ahh – I hope you are not offended that I used your name! But the women of your clan told me and I'd rather say your name than give you a different one or call you Wind Woman and you've been sleeping for a long time now and..." The woman continued to chatter on as she tucked me back into bed, and checked my forehead with a practiced hand. When she took a step back (and finally a breath as well) I realized she was stunningly beautiful. My nurse was tall and shapely with silky black hair that tumbled down her back, and big dark eyes that held an uncommon sweetness of expression. It made me catch my breath, thinking I was somehow in the presence of an angel. Yet then she began to look nervous, and I realized she was no doubt waiting for a response to one of her (many) questions.

"It's fine to call me Maka. It's probably better to leave out my clan, for now. I'm sorry I caused you so much distress...thank you so much for taking care of me." She smiled brightly, waving her hands to offset my thanks. "What is your name?" Just as I asked, my eyes focused on a tribal tattoo on her upper left bicep. "_Are you of the Lynx Clan?"_

Her eyes brightened with surprise and delight. "_Yes! I am Tsubaki of the Lynx Clan...__but how do you speak our language?"_

A long time ago, after the demons had been sealed away, it had been decided that all clans should be able to communicate in dangerous times. Therefore all clans still spoke the common tongue (used nowadays for trading and festivals), although most clans primarily used their own language. That our clan did not have a private tongue was a rarity that I had always felt unfair, and had influenced me to learn as many languages as possible. _"My mother, __Kami__ was of your people. She __and my father met at a festival,__ and my father learned the language to woo her. __Then t__hey __spoke__ it to me. __I apologize __for my mistakes, I've only spoken it with my parents-"_

_ "__No! You speak it very well, for __someone not of the Lynx clan. Better than some born there, really-" _Tsubaki's girlish glee was cut short as she clearly remembered something painful. "_But that is another matte__r. How are you feeling? __I was told you may feel weak, __among...other things."_

Other things? I would never see my home again, and almost everyone that I knew and loved was dead. I was weak from hunger and thirst, and completely filthy as well. Worse than this was my guilt at having survived, and of joining with the enemy in some unknown ritual. Judging by her kindness this was entirely possible, but I had a feeling it was more to do with this strange _fullness _I felt, as if I now had an extra limb, or a new internal organ, or a much larger spirit...

Yet all that could wait. I decided to start with the most pressing need. "_A little thirsty. And very hungry. __And __dirty, __I suppose.__"_

Tsubaki was nothing if not quick and competent. Within moments I was drinking cool water from a crafted mug, and quieting my hunger with slabs of bread, cheese, and smoked meat. She had also prepared a broth, which I took advantage of by dunking the hard bread in. Then, my hunger abated, I finally felt up to asking some questions. "_Where are we? __Are you a captive as well?__" _I couldn't help but shiver when the blanket slipped off my shoulders.

Tsubaki sat on the floor across from me, arms wrapped around her knees as she watched me eat. She smiled faintly at my second question. "_We are in the __far north__, near the __eternal boundary. __The Wolf Clan __territory__, if __that helps. __And i__f you think it's cold now...__well, just be thankful you __missed the worst of the winter." _She poked at my bowl of broth, wordlessly telling me to finish it. I took another sip and waited for her to continue. "_As for me, __I am less a captive and more of a...tithe. __Yet that's not quite right either. I__t was more that I was chosen to __aid the Wolf Clan."_

Something was not quite right, but the pained expression on Tsubaki's face forbade me from going any further. Perhaps she had been betrayed by her clan, and thus felt sensitive? It was entirely possible, and as I didn't want to hurt the woman I was already beginning to think of as my friend – and there was something in the brightness of her eyes and smile that made me think she felt the same – so I left her story alone for the moment. "_Aid them with what? __Was it what Soul was talking about, with the demons? But they are locked away, and can never return..." _I trailed off when a new expression crossed her face – a mix of curiosity and barely contained excitement. "_Tsubaki?_"

"_Is it true that you will wield the Deathbringer? __That he chose you?"_

By the gods, did everyone know what that was except for me? Or was this some madness peculiar to the Wolf Clan? "_I am not sure. He asked me to, but I do not know what it is. Could you tell me? __Does it mean I am his keeper?" _That made no sense, but it was the best I could think of. Perhaps I had some kind of effect on his magic? Perhaps I would act as a conduit for his druid lore?

Tsubaki shook her head slowly, frowning thoughtfully. "_A little, but it's __probably not what you think. __It__ means he wants you to fight beside him. __H__a__ve you seen – but perhaps you don't know...__ have you ever seen him fight?"_

Wordlessly I nodded, not sure whether I should admit to fighting him myself. After resting and finding a small measure of calm after the last few doomed days, it seemed even more incredible that I had not only fought Soul, but killed three men.

"_Some warriors...they have abilities. __Harvar __can conduct __lightning, __and Kilik can create __that__ and fire.__The Deathbringer-"_

_ "His limbs become blades. Yes. I have...I have seen that."_

She nodded. _"Yes, but it's not just his limbs. __If someone were to wield him, he could fully become a scythe, and __become __much, much more powerful." _I couldn't help looking skeptical. The thought of a grown man becoming a scythe was ridiculous...but so was the thought of an arm becoming a blade, or a man conducting lightning... "_I know it sounds strange. __But it happens with others – Harvar becomes a spear, and Jacqueline becomes a lantern, although that is rar__e__ as Kim almost never fights -"_

"Did I hear my name? Oh, Tsubaki. And the new one. Death's Mistress, right?" The newcomer had ducked underneath the door flap and frowned as she straightened and looked down at me. "She doesn't _look_ very dangerous..."

"Well neither do you. And Death's Mistress is a terrible nickname. We've only just met." It was out of my mouth before I could realize the ramifications of my ill-timed flippancy – what if this was an important woman? The Lady of the clan?

"And you think you will live long enough to earn a new one?" She tilted her head as she considered me, and I stuck up my chin. If I wasn't afraid of the Deathbringer, I wouldn't be afraid of her. Besides, she was about my age, and while she was attractive, I doubted the wife of the chieftain would have hair as short and ill-kept as hers. In every clan save the Snake Clan, short hair on women was a sign of servitude.

...Now that I noticed it, perhaps this woman _was_ of the Snake Clan. Her large, slanted green eyes and long thin limbs were points in that favor. If so, it was no wonder she was vitriolic. Snakes were notoriously loyal unto themselves as they were largely reviled by the other clans. It would have been a terrible thing to be a captive here, especially if she was the only one of her kind.

"Kim, she's only just regained consciousness. Let her get her bearings before you start in on her, otherwise she'll think-"

"_You – Snake Clan? __Capture? __E__xile?"_ I only knew a little of their tongue. Crona, the wisewoman in the forest had taught me, but it was a notoriously difficult language to learn. It was highly sibilant and when spoken very fast sounded exactly like an angry snake. While I personally found it a distasteful language, the concepts Crona had told me of their culture and language were fascinating. Hopefully it would help me now.

Kim's body froze but her head cocked in my direction, as if she were trying to deny the effect my words had on her. I wondered if I hadn't pronounced them well enough, but after a moment she responded. _"__Captive. __Why? How-"_ She continued, but her pronunciation was very different than Crona's, who had been exiled long ago in her youth. I decided to ignore what I didn't know. I wanted to impress this woman, even though she had been unkind with me. One battle at a time, as my father had taught me.

"_Sorry, bad speak. __L__ittlest__ understanding. __If __you __capture __be__, __why no run? __Es- es- escaper? __Home.__"_

I didn't understand any of Kim's response. People feared members of the Snake Clan for witches, and if any had heard Kim's explosive reply it might be understandable – even Tsubaki's eyes grew wide at Kim's hissing and shrieking.

Before she calmed herself Tsubaki turned to me and murmured, "Whatever you just said to her, _please _don't say it again. Kim is usually very kind, but-"

"They are all _dead_. I am the only one they spared. I am the _last_. You know a little of our language, so maybe you understand what that means. Maybe you understand my rage." It was not just rage, I could see that now. Despair and fear was written in her stance, loneliness must haunt her every step. Members of the Snake Clan were never meant to be alone – Crona had told me as such. In little ways, I could see what living a lifetime of solitude had done to her. It must be 100 times worse for a young woman who had lost even more than I and Crona had. Perhaps I could give her something in return.

"I know this might not mean much, but you're not quite the last. There is an exile in the forest – I know exiles are taboo, but it is the truth. She did not join another clan, but lives in solitude. She's why I can speak a little, and know a bit of your customs."

Kim's eyes widened, and although exiles were a burden for any clan, this news meant something to her. "What – what is her name?"

"She goes by Crona, but that wasn't her Clan name. I don't know her old name."

"_K__ronusss." _Kim hissed and mumbled to herself, as if tasting the name on her tongue. After a long moment she stopped and shook her head. She exhaled roughly, and before I knew it she had stepped close to me and her cheek was against mine. Her tongue flicked out against my ear, but she pulled away before I could worry about having to do the same. She snorted at the look of confusion on my face.

"Someday you will introduce me to this _Crona_ of yours. Until then, you will just have to be my clan-sister. We will take care of each other, yes?" I glanced over at Tsubaki who was watching us with wide-eyed fascination. Here was another of the Snake Clans characteristics – the penchant to change their mood quickly and completely, often disconcerting others. Kim grinned slyly before proceeding to "initiate" Tsubaki in the same manner. I laughed when Tsubaki squeaked and blushed, and Kim did as well.

"You too, Shadow. I have been angry for too long, and having sisters again might remind me of what I still have..."

Tsubaki looked as if she were about to say something, but stopped when Kim turned back to me with a mock-scowl on her face. "You taste _terrible._ We must clean you. Does she require healing, Tsubaki?"

"No. Just cleaning – Kim! Why are you undressing when it is Maka that needs cleaning?"

"We are sisters, yes? We will save bathwater this way."

Their antics and company made the rest of that day bearable. I would feel guilty later, but for just a moment – surrounded by people I could tentatively call friends - my heart was shamefully light.

…

…

…

The next day, after sleeping for another 12 hours and eating enough to feed a small family, Tsubaki decided I was well enough to learn my way around the village. It only took about 20 minutes to make the rounds, and it was easy enough to remember where everything was – the storage huts, the communal building where everyone ate and cooked, the training grounds, the family quarters, the ritual altar. I remembered something odd as we passed the healer's tent, where Kim was currently "training" with the camp healer, Nygus – Kim was an adept in healing magic, which is why she alone had been spared from the Snake Clan. From what she had explained it had something to do with the reformation of damaged limbs or organs, although she was currently learning how to speed up the healing process. It was also why she did not often go into battle, although she had "resonated" with a woman named Jacqueline, the woman who had set so much of my village aflame.

"Tsubaki? Why did Kim call me Death's Mistress?"

My question clearly took her by surprise. "Oh. Well. It's just a silly nickname, Maka. There's no need to take it so seriously! Why, it's practically a way of welcoming you to the village! This way, I bet you will make many friends!"

I couldn't help but smile at Tsubaki's good-natured optimism. She was so sweet and earnest in all that she did that it was impossible not to love her, even when I had only known her for barely over a day. "I doubt that is true, but thank you for trying. It has to do with So- the Deathbringer, doesn't it? Because I am his...wielder?" It was still difficult for me to talk about this. I knew it was true – I had agreed to fight with him, and had even seen his _soul – _but it was still difficult to wrap my mind around the concept that man could become weapon – and that another person could _wield_ him. It was partially for this reason that we were headed back to the training grounds, on the off chance I could watch this miracle myself.

Although I didn't say anything to Tsubaki, I also wanted to see Soul again. Just to make sure it was all real...and to allay this pervasive longing to connect with him again. Instinctually I knew he was the cause of this throbbing pull that was both internal and foreign. What else could it be?

"Well...perhaps that as something to do with it. Everyone knows him, and most are afraid of him. But you are not terrifying at all, and I'm sure many people will like you!"

Tsubaki seemed very determined to set my mind at ease in terms of my likability. I wondered if this was something she herself was dealing with. After all, no one seemed very friendly besides Kim...who had taken a certain amount of effort to warm up. I had assumed that others in the village would be the same way, but many treated Tsubaki as if _she_ was something unnatural. At the time I had thought it was a matter of captive/native relations, but now I began to wonder.

"I doubt it, Tsubaki. I didn't get along well with the women of my village. Actually Black was my only friend, and no one really liked him either, now that I think about it..." Black. I hadn't thought about him all today, and if I let myself go now, I might break down and weep. I satisfied myself with a quick prayer to the winds that they would guide his path, and keep him far from the dangers I faced.

Tsubaki looked genuinely surprised. "That doesn't make sense. I mean, you won over _Kim_ and she hates almost everyone! And the Deathbringer! He wouldn't... let you wield him if he disliked you..."

Thinking of Soul was somehow worse than thinking of Black. At least I knew who and what Black was...and what I was to him. "Perhaps those are who I befriend – those who are difficult. And you. Actually, I'm more surprised that more people don't like _you_. You've been nothing but kind and amiable since I've arrived, yet only Kim looks you in the eye. Is it because you aren't a native of the Wolf Clan? Or is it because you are more beautiful than they?"

She blushed bright red and tried to hide her face with her hands. When that didn't work, she squatted down so that she could attempt to hide behind the wooden railing fencing in the sparring grounds. I looked down at her in amazement. Was she really so modest? How could she be, when she looked like a goddess incarnate? Feeling incredibly silly, I knelt down next to her.

"Tsubaki? Are you all right? I'm sorry if I embarrassed you..." See, this was why I never had any woman friends! Black would never have gotten embarrassed over something I said – he simply would have laughed it off, or jokingly proclaimed it as eternal truth, or done any number or understandable, boyish things. I was about to apologize again when finally Tsubaki spoke.

"Do you really think that? That I am kind and amiable? And...and that I am your friend?"

I blinked. Being friends with Black had also not prepared me for the sheer (adorable) absurdity of female friends, either. "Well yes, of course. Because you are – kind, and amiable, and my friend." Was that not the correct way of doing this? "Am I your friend as well?"

Tsubaki's smile could have lit up all the long nights of winter at once. "Of course! As long as you don't mind-" Whatever she was about to say was cut off by the arrival of Kim, who carelessly wrapped an arm around each of us and pulled us up to our feet.

"Well now, sisters. Who are we watching, then? So eager for a man to warm our beds at night? Ahh, but Maka is already spoken for. Shadow?"

"Shadow?" I decided to ignore the rest. I was beginning to discover that Kim liked to make people uncomfortable by making playfully absurd statements. Tsubaki had agreed, and added something about it being something to hide behind, and that I would understand soon enough.

Kim climbed onto the second rung of the fence as she responded. "I mean Tsubaki, of course. If you are Death's Mistress, then she is the Shadow. You know, the southern assassin?" She must have caught the expression on Tsubaki's face for she continued. "Titles are honorable, sister. It is your power and your protection, here. If you were not the deadliest woman in the entirety of the Wolf Clan, do you think you would be untouched? You'd be like every other captive woman – married or _taken_ by the men that captured them." She gazed at the men training, her eyes hard and flat. "Like me."

"KIM! LIGHT THAT SHINES FORTH THROUGH THE HEAVENS!"

With a strangled noise, Kim tumbled from the fence landing flat on her back. I gaped in amazement as a tall, thin man with hair twisted into two pillars on either side of his head came streaking across the training grounds towards us. As he ran, the spear he held in his right hand twisted and roiled, and a moment later an angry looking, dark-haired man was jogging after him. Oh. So _that_ was how the transformation worked...

"Kim my _darling_ you have come to watch me train! Oh the joy you give me! You are the best of women, and I must proclaim it to all I meet! My wife is the most wonderful-ooof!"

Kim had recovered from her shock and deliberately landed a punch on the shouting man's stomach. The man-who-had-previously-been-his-weapon caught him before he fell. Alarmed, I glanced over at Tsubaki but all she did was shake her head, half embarrassed and half amused.

"Oxford! What did I tell you about doing that?! Everyone will hear! Also it is not true."

"Does that mean I can sings hymns of your praise in private, dearest?" The man rasped, as he gazed at her with open adoration.

"Yes-no! No! No that is not what I meant!" Kim ground the palm of her fist into her forehead, and I was surprised to see her so flustered. I also wondered what part of his praise was untrue – that she was his wife, or that she was the best of women. "A-anyway, aren't you supposed to be training? You can't fight off the demons singing my praises. And when they cut you down, I won't heal you!"

Even I could tell that was an empty threat. Something about Oxford (her husband?) unnerved her...and I could see what Tsubaki had meant about hiding behind her absurd statements. Yet it didn't seem like he could have earned this dark hatred she had summoned only moments ago – he was practically wagging his tail like a puppy!

"Are the one who will wield the Deathbringer?" Oxford's weapon calmly ignored the marital mayhem and turned unblinkingly towards me. I nodded slowly wondering how everyone in this clan knew already. Had Soul told everyone? Briefly I thought back to what Kim had told Tsubaki about protection, and I decided to be brave and own this bewildering truth.

"I will wield Soul." When the intensity in his gaze did not change I decided I had enough. "Is this a problem?"

He shook his head and turned to leave. He was an odd one, and I wouldn't have even known his name had Tsubaki not spoke up.

_"__Harvar, would you have __people think those of the Lynx Clan __so impolite?"_

Now that she mentioned it, there was something similar in their postures. When I glanced at his left bicep it was confirmed. "_It was a pleasure to meet you, Harvar of the Lynx."_

He nodded curtly, and then ran back to the training grounds. I saw Oxford glance at him out of the corner of his eye and I realized that for all his silliness, Oxford was still a Wolf Clan warrior, and as such a dangerous man. Tsubaki sidled up to me and shook her head.

"I'm sorry for Harvar. He's always been like that – usually he won't say a word to anyone. He's very loyal though, and a good man. He's just not very polite." Tsubaki trailed off and looked at me with a careful expression on her face. Clearly she was worried that Kim had outed her as an assassin. She needn't have worried - in this morally ambiguous time, where I found myself surrounded by the enemy and even enjoying their company, I was in no position to judge. Besides, kindness was kindness, and it just wasn't in me to disregard her nature. So I smiled and reached up to squeeze her upper arm, a gesture my mother had often done to me.

"You don't need to worry, Tsubaki. About Harvar _or_ yourself. I just want to know what's really going on. Everyone keeps talking about the demons, and I'm more worried about that, to be honest."

Tsubaki nodded firmly and probably would have told me everything had Oxford not bounded over to me. He bowed deeply and unexpectedly grabbed my hands, pressing them firmly.

"Maka of the Wind! Tsubaki of the Lynx! I thank you for befriending my (beautiful and splendiferous) wife! Please be as sisters to her, and family to me. What is mine is yours." He drew in a deep breath, and Kim rolled her eyes behind him, tapping her foot angrily. She was the perfect picture of a nagging wife, and Tsubaki giggled. "Now then. I am Oxford of the Wolf. I wield Harvar, greatest of the lightning spears. Kim and I were married 4 months and 13 days ago. This means our anniversary is coming up, and of course you are invited to -"

"All right, all right, that's enough. I only said you could introduce yourself, Oxford."

"But – but darling! You said I could tell them the most important things!"

If Kim were any more irritated, her short locks would stand on end and hiss like the snakes her clan was named for. Oxford clearly saw this as well as he stopped protesting, stooped low and kissed her hand. In the split-second shock that followed he took off across the training field. Sputtering, Kim took off after him, her patience at an end.

Tsubaki and I stood together and watched as Kim chased him up and down the training grounds, while other warriors had lined up and began yelling encouragement to both Ox _and_ Kim.

"Are they really married?"

Tsubaki smiled. "Yes, amazingly. He protected her when the Wolf Clan raided the Snake Clan a few months back. He took her for a wife soon after, and although Kim complains about her life here, it would be far worse had Ox not married her. I think she knows it too – she just chafes at not being free, among other things." Her smile dimmed when a triumphant Kim finally caught up to Oxford and jumped on his back, bringing him down to the ground. "He was originally from the Lynx Clan, you know. He and Harvar were raised together as bond brothers. Ox was lost when he was a child, however, about 10 years ago. We thought he had died. Yet when the Lynx Clan was _asked_ to hand over its greatest warriors...Ox came as part of the delegation crew."

I looked over at Oxford, laughing delightedly as Kim ineffectually pummeled him with her fists. "He seems like he's happy. Like he fits in." _Not like the captives_, I thought to myself. _Not like __his __birth __clan._

Tsubaki shrugged. "Apparently things are much better now that the old chief, Asura, is dead. Ox was here for a few years before Asura died and he's told Harvar and I some terrible things. Vajra is tough, but he's fair, anti-demon, and very pious. Everything he does is guided by prophecy – all the clans he raids for warriors, all the rituals he undergoes strengthen the boundaries."

Demons again. Why wouldn't anyone just tell me what was going on? Were the boundaries in danger of failing? It was also hard to hear Tsubaki be so calm about the man who had effectively wrecked my life. I hadn't seen him since my induction to the clan, and for that I was thankful. He was the man who had ordered the destruction of my clan, and for what? No warriors had been taken to fight against these "demons!" Only spoils of war - women, and young boys who in ten years could be warriors, but certainly not now. Was Vajra thinking that far ahead? Or was all this a lie to bolster the strength and power of the Wolf Clan?

Soul thought I was important, but only because I was _his_ magical warrior. I was the one to wield _him._ Vajra had only been looking for my father, although I suspected he would have taken Black if they had been there. Not for the first time, I thought out the timing of it all – Black was a few months older than me yet still hadn't become a man, even at 17 seasons. That he entered the forest and began the ritual – with my father acting as a guide - only the night before the Wolves came was suspicious to me. If Vajra had come to our village expecting my father, shouldn't his men have been more careful in who they took? Hadn't they asked about a man named Albarn? No one else would have protected the lives of Black and my father-

Perhaps someone _had_ told. Perhaps they had doubled back there, waiting to capture them. Perhaps that was where Soul was right now-

Then they would be dead. I knew Black and Albarn's skills, and even Soul was no match for them. There would be no fear in their hearts, like there was in the rest of the village. Their homes were destroyed, their daughter and friend taken, and that would be the end of those sent to capture them. I had to believe in them, and have faith that they would survive, and be smart enough to avoid the notice of the Wolf Clan. Hopefully they would go to Crona in the forest, with her gift of prophecy, she would know what to do-

"Tsubaki, have you seen my children?" The voice was dark, rich, and heavily accented. It was also quite gentle so I glanced over at the speaker without fear. Yet when I saw skin the color of night my heart stopped its rhythm in my chest – this was one of the warriors who had destroyed my home! The man who could summon fire and lightning from his fists! How could Tsubaki stand there so calmly and smile up at him as if he had done nothing wrong?

"They should be with Nygus, Kilik. Have you met- ahh. That can wait for another time. Fare well."

I was shaking. Whether with rage or fear I could not exactly determine, but if the dark one – Kilik – did not leave right now, I was sure I would do something foolish. I told myself to think rationally. His accent, his skin...he was not native to the Wolf Clan. He was just as Kim and Tsubaki and Harvar, and I should not hate him for what he had been forced to do. Yet he had been _there._ I had seen him destroy our crops and take our lives. How could I smile and extend my hand to someone that had done that? I needed time and distance to center myself, and thankfully Tsubaki had realized that.

"Maka? Are you all right?"

No. No, I was not all right. I felt as if I were going mad – befriending fellow captives was one thing, but to be faced with the warriors who had destroyed my home? I knew how Kim felt, bitter and lost and trapped without the power to change anything. It didn't matter that Tsubaki and Ox were kind people, who wanted to make this transition better for us. We were captives. Our homes were gone. How were we supposed to deal with that?

"Tsubaki, how long have you been here?"

She frowned as she considered. "They came to the Lynx clan almost two years ago. Harvar came immediately, but it took me another month to finish my training. Then I came."

Two years? She had survived this for two years? Then again, it _was_ her choice...and there was a small sliver of hope in this for me. "And in two years, no man has tried to...claim you? Kim said your reputation was your protection..."

Tsubaki looked profoundly uncomfortable, but I had expected that. I had learned she was a very modest woman. "That is part of it. I am protected by other means as well."

"By your wielder?" No one had come straight out and claimed that Tsubaki was a weapon, but I was willing to bet she was. Oddly enough I could feel it – I had assumed it was something unique to her and Harvar, but I could feel a similar energy in both Kim and Ox. There was something different between weapons and wielders, and the more I met the more I could distinguish it.

Perhaps I really was going mad, and this was all a feverish death-dream. How could this be real?

"How did you...? No, I do not have a wielder. But how did you know I was a weapon?"

"I don't know. I guess I could feel it." But that was more madness; how could I feel something intangible? Yet then it clicked: Soul. Deathbringer or druid, all this magical nonsense had begun with him. If he couldn't undo it, he could at least explain it. "I'm sorry, Tsubaki...I have to-"

"He's calling you, isn't he? And he said-" She sighed and pitched her voice much lower, "He said he would give you at least three days to adjust. This is too early. You look like you are about to bolt."

I took a deep breath and tried to calm my rampant thoughts. Although I had no idea who or what was supposed to be calling me, I did feel like running, or screaming, or doing something ridiculous. But that was why I needed Soul. If he was able to temper my depression and fear on the march to the village, he would be able to calm me, now. "No one is calling me, Tsubaki. At least, I don't think they are. I just need to talk to So-the Deathbringer. Do you know where he is?"

She frowned, and I could see she clearly did not want to tell me. So I tried again. "I promise you, I just need to talk to him. I'm just a little overwhelmed, and he makes things understandable." Tsubaki's eyebrows shot up, and I realized how unexpected it must be to hear such a thing said of the Deathbringer. After all, this was the man who had been the scourge of everything from childhood tales to the strongest clans. I wondered now at how that was possible. Soul was only a year or two older than I. How could he have built up a reputation like that in less than 20 years?

"...He trains at the back of the training grounds. Generally the warriors don't like to spar with him, and most don't even like to speak to him, so he should be relatively alone. If you want I could walk you there – just be _careful_, Maka."

Her motherlike concern touched my heart and I knew that whatever Tsubaki had done as an assassin of the Wolf Clan, I could not help but love her. "It's all right, sister. I will find him on my own. I just need a few moments to gather my thoughts. But thank you."

After a moment's hesitation she nodded then turned away, leaving me alone with my thoughts, and my drive to see Soul. _Winds watch over me, and keep me from harm. __I pray__ this man be a friend and not an enemy, __for I am within his power. _

…

…

…

Although I had been thinking of him all morning, seeing him again was a shock to my senses. He was alone, as Tsubaki had guessed he might be. Clearly he had been training long and hard enough to disregard the winter weather – he had stripped down to a thin shirt and belted leather pants, and from my perch 20 yards away I could see the shirt was practically translucent with his sweat. Watching him move it was obvious he was an agile warrior, relying more on his senses than strength, and I wondered how I could have lasted that long against him. Would he truly grow more powerful when -if- I wielded him?

This was just another question among the many I had for him, but I couldn't bring myself to interrupt quite yet. Now that I was here I felt better. There was something calming about watching him train...although that seemed counter-intuitive. It should have been disturbing - Soul was slicing with one arm, stabbing with the next, spinning, leaping, and moving so smoothly it all seemed to be a terrible dance. Yet there was a rhythm within it and if I let go of my own apprehensions, I could feel Soul. His breath, his movements, his inner calm – I could sense them all, and if I let them, they would influence me.

Carefully I pulled back, unaware if he could sense what I had just done. Apparently he could as his stopped moving the moment I did. And when his eyes met mine, I finally realized why I had been anxious to see him for the last two days, and why I felt so much calmer when I did. It had nothing to do with our nebulous, magical connection. It was an even more frightening paradox: with the Deathbringer – with _Soul_ – I felt safe.

He approached me slowly, and I could read the same strange apprehension that he had felt when I was in his spirit. Now that we were in the real world, I could see what it truly was – he was afraid that I would reject him. After all, with his reputation both abroad and in his village, everyone else was afraid of him. Yet even if he couldn't read my confusing emotions, he at least knew I did not fear him. Hadn't I told him so back at my village?

"I thought...I thought you would like more time to adjust. To _connect_, if not...make friends. I told the Shadow to let you rest. Why did you come? I was so careful not to call you..." His eyes were both fierce and sad and while I knew I should be repelled by their unnatural color, their expression made me want to fix him, heal him, save him. I had seen his soul, and while it had proved his humanity, he was so close to breaking.

"I came because I wanted to see you. To talk to you – about the demons...and everything else. I need to know- otherwise I'll go mad. Please, Soul. I _need_ this."

His white brows furrowed in confusion and consternation as I hopped over the fence that separated us. I did not expect him to take a step back from me, but he did. "You have lost so much, don't you need time to put it to rest? I wanted to give this much to you, before all peace is gone."

An image of Ox's unquenchable love for Kim flashed through my mind, but it was gone too quickly before I could establish the common theme. Was this how the Wolf men protected those important to them, by keeping them away from danger? Yet by pushing me away, it would only damage me further. "I understand what you tried to do...but if that was your goal, I will need more time than what we have. I have lost nearly everything. Please don't take away what little I have left." This time when I stepped closer to him he did not back away, yet he tilted his head down so his long bangs hid the expression on his face. "I need what you have, Soul. Purpose is what binds your being together...I saw that. I _need_ that. Or _I_ will break, the same as you." Feel unutterably silly, I extended my hand to him, hoping he would take it...and that the particular skill we had established when I had first allowed him into my mind worked both ways. "Show me, Soul. Please. You have shown me your spirit, now show me what we must fight. Show me why my home was destroyed, and I am your wielder. _Show me."_

And then, as he haltingly took my hands within his own, he did. One moment I was standing on the pounded dirt of the training ground, aware of the cold wind and the drying sweat that had coated his hands; the next found me hurtling through what could only be his memories, looking through a dark window at experiences that were not my own. In the first Soul was a boy of only 5 or 6.

_The __man dying in bed__ was my father, yet he had barely deigned to speak to me in life. By my side was my brother, Wes__, who had raised me __since __my mother had died in childbirth. Next to my father was Vajra, __his best friend__. __It was he who spoke._

_ "__I swear to you, Evan__s__. I will not let the demons __overtake us__. We have been given a great gift in __your youngest son, __and I will not let it go to waste. __The folly of the Star Clan shall not go __unopposed, __not matter what Asura would counsel.__ I will not let the boundaries fall any further!"_

Days and months and years flew by, like the flutter of a bird's wings. I was aware of hundreds of experiences but only a few filtered in: Vajra, his head in his hands, and the knowledge that Soul was in great pain; scrolls of prophecies stacked up in a herbalist's room; hours of Soul pushing his prepubescent body to the limit, and the elegies composed by the traveling bard as more and more of their warriors fell. Then came a memory of the demons themselves, from nearly ten years ago:

_The ache in my limbs woke me, but upon waking I knew something was wrong. It took a moment for me to realize what it was:__t__here was no noise from the animals of the forest, or the men in the camp, or even the crackle of fire. __I had never known such a silence, and I knew it was wrong. _

_Yet there was no time to deliberate. The pain __from __the ritual__was so great that I could barely hobble out __my cot, let alone get to Asura __and warn him. __But Vajra was with him, and __surely Vajra would know __what was wrong – __from__ the silence all around us, to the roaring in my head, the pounding in my blood-_

_Then the first scream tore through the night, and just as I reached the door of the hut I could smell the blood in the air. __Yet this was wrong, everything was wrong, __something inside _me _was wrong-_

_The shape before me was no natural creature of this world. It was twisted and __opaque like the night__, folding in on itself to form rows of jagged teeth at its midsection. The fear blocked the pain enough for me to change my arms into curved blades, although the action brought the demon's attention to me. __Yet just as it lunged at me, the warrior Tezca deflected it by wielding his partner, Enrique. __With a ferocious warcry to rival the demon's screams, he leapt into battle, and I realized that humans truly could fight against the demons, and I must help-_

It was not the last time Soul was to see the demons. Image after image he presented me, all different yet clearly identifiable as abominations, not men. They had lost so many of the early warriors; Tezca, Enrique, Arthur, BJ, Marie, Azusa...the list was endless. Their loss, coupled with the advancing waves of demons who had managed to slip through the weakening boundaries had fueled the need for other special warriors, people who could transcend the limitations of human – those who had a touch of the spirits in their bloodline...

For those "special" warriors that could either become a weapon, or wield them were descendants of benevolent spirits that had stood with the humans during the demons wars over 4000 years ago. It was thanks to the good spirits that we had a chance of fighting back the original demon onslaught, and that the boundaries were erected. Although the knowledge of the special warriors was lost, it was re-discovered when the need was great, and due to Vajra's extensive learnings he was able to locate and identify those with spirit blood and bring them into his burgeoning army. Here we could find each other, learn to fight with each other, and hopefully stem the tide while he found a way to re-construct the falling boundaries...

_By why not assimilate them peacefully? Why attack and massacre clans, when they possess resources necessary to us in this war? _It was difficult to find my voice when I was so thoroughly enmeshed in Soul's inner world. When I wasn't being bombarded with his thoughts and experiences, the world around me began to form itself into a dark room, decorated in tones of red and black and lit by the embers of a dying fire. Somehow I understood that this was the locus of his spirit, and it was here that I finally found the wherewithal to voice my question.

_Many we did. The Lynx Clan, the Bear Clan, the remnants of the Fire Clan...__there are __more__ we have arranged peaceful settlements with. _As he spoke he materialized from the shadows of his dark room, and he was garbed in the robe of a bard. While it seemed an odd choice of attire, it somehow suited him. _The Snake Clan sought to double cross us, and ha__ve long had__ dealings with __the Wild Women who helped the Star Clan __tear the boundary. __Because of them the final battle is years sooner than we were prepared for._

_And what of my clan? __The Wind people are peaceful, __and __I know for certain that no contact was made with us before the attack. _Shadows whispered against my skin, forming into a soft fabric that clung to me when I moved closer to him. His blood eyes caught the light and glowed like the embers in the fire, yet it was so cold in the room and even where I stood I could feel his warmth.

_One week ago, __Asura made contact with your famed warrior, Albarn. He denied us aid, and refused to allow us entrance to the village. __He-_

The shadows cloaking me swirled violently as my eyes sparked with rage. _That is a lie! No man came to our village! Albarn is my _father_ and I knew all who came to him! Even if I had not learned of the meeting, my father would never deny such a threat outright. There were plenty of warriors in the village – Black in particular – who would have joined you without question. That is a _lie_, Soul. _ _That is a _lie. It wasn't until I finished speaking that I realized I had done something foolish – I had undermined Asura's character. Soul was a loyal man, and I knew how much he respected Asura. Yet I would not back down – everything he had said was untrue, and if he could see into my spirit, he would know that soon enough.

His eyes narrowed as he reflected on my outburst. _Albarn is your __father? __And you are sure that he was not approached? _He frowned at my angry nod. _Then w__he__re__ was he when we attacked the village? __Asura did not ask further, but I am sure we did not bring him down.__ Why did he not protect you? Or your home? _

I caught my breath. Here it was. Did I trust Soul enough to potentially betray my father and Black? But everyone in the village knew where he was, and the forest protected its own, especially when in the midst of certain rituals. _He was in the forest with __Black- with my friend.__ When our warriors become men they go into the forest to undergo certain rites...__as Black's parents died many years ago, __my father went with him as his guide. __That is why neither of them were there to protect us. __And it also proves my father was not contacted –__ even if he had decided not to assist your clan, he would not have left us __unprotected so soon after denying a desperate cause. _I stepped close to him, catching his hand before he could shield his face with it. I was beginning to learn how reclusive and careful Soul was, and how he would hide himself away at the slightest provocation. Yet I was in his spirit-room, and I could sense the disbelief and blossoming shame at being wrong, and attacking the innocent. _I do not blame you, Soul. __No matter what happened...you didn't know. __It wasn't up to you-_

_ No, but __mine__ was the hand th__at__ struck. _He pulled away from me and turned so that the light flickered against his face. _It was I who killed innocents. If you are right – and I know that you believe you are – then this is the worst thing I have ever done. __Even the massacre of the Snake Clan...they were doing wrong, and __it was their lives or the safety of __all who now live.__But this? _He caught my gaze and faltered, the words dying on his lips. He looked at me as if I held the right to reserve either salvation or damnation, and he was not an optimistic man. Yet before I could say anything, whether reassurance or condemnation, he spoke again.

_This is the man that I a__m. __Those are the choices I have made. __Yet there is worse. I am...tainted in __other ways, and there is a chance that __it__ could spread to you. __I know that I __asked you -begged you- to wield me, but __you didn't know...and still don't understand what I have become. __I am the _Deathbringer_, and I am not truly human, anymore. __And I don't want you to __understand._

_ What are you saying?_ There was a coldness in my belly at his words and his sorrowful determination. Had not he bared his spirit to me? Finally I had my purpose – to bring down the demons – and although everything about him was different, it paradoxically felt like I was coming home. Yet now he was balking at every step of the way. Was it me? Had I failed some test? Or had he come to his senses and realized that a skinny, untrained maiden could not fight with him?

_If your father is still alive, I can bring you to him. __At the least I can bring you to __the Lady of the Woods, __and she will know where he is. __I can spare _you_, at least. __Then-_

_ And how can you spare me from the demons, Soul? __Will they not kill me all the faster without you__ by my side__?_

_I_am_ a demon! Don't you know all the stories? __I am cursed, tainted; __it is why Vajra can wield me against them so effectively-_

_ I don't care! _My yell cut threw the escalating exchange, and the silence that followed it was absolute. For once he had neglected to shield his face yet on it there were far too many emotions to fully comprehend. The fire in the hearth had grown, however, and the light was chasing away the shadows in the room. _I don't care. I have seen you, Soul. I _know_ what you are. __And I am not afraid. _I looked around me, and as I did the fire leaped even higher. _And if it is your darkness that you fear, __I will burn all your shadows down. __Let me fight with you. __Let me protect with you. _I extended my forearm for him to clasp, as was tradition among the warriors. If he took it, then I would not let him falter again – word was bond.

_They will fear you. And hate you. And __perhaps even hurt yo__u, Wind Warrior-_

_ Maka. My name is Maka. __And __if you are with me, I will not be afraid. _I managed to smile, and even though it was filled with the heaviness of the moment I could feel the shadows recess further. Was this all I had to do to fight his darkness, accept him? Or teach him how to accept himself... _After all, I have promised __to wield you – and I _always_ keep my word._

The look he then gave me was searing and strange, and made my heart flutter like a small, trapped bird. Yet it lasted only a moment before he nodded slowly. _Then I promise to __fight with__ you. To __live __and die alongside you, __to be guided by you, __and to __protect you from the dangers without and within. __So I swear on my name, __my blades, and my s__pirit__. _Then he clasped my forearm. For a moment I was too shocked to speak; the determination in his words fired my mind while the cadence of his voice touched my heart, and all I could was flush and stare like I had never seen a man before. But then my resolve shook away these strange feelings and my grip tightened in return.

_I am yours __to command__...Maka. __Do with me what you will. _

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**Once upon a time, I had a mad crush on Stein. Yet that was before I discovered the appeal of sad/dark!Soul, who makes ****all my other manga crushes dust, in comparison. **** *****Fans self. FANS EVERYONE***

**I am beginning to realize my darker stories are not very well received, in comparison to my light hearted smexy adventures. Bah and gah, I say. I will just try harder to influence you into appreciating dark, stormy, angst-ridden love. **

** Appreciate! **


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